Carry On
by Ashlee Pond
Summary: "Jane isn't made for running through the jungle," she said. At his blank look she elaborated, "I'm used to wearing shoes, and... and walking, at a leisurely pace, more like a stroll, really, on streets and in gardens, not running for my life from a herd of wild rhinos." - Jane is having some trouble adjusting to life in the jungle.


**Carry On.**

Jane Porter had once been the perfect English rose. Ladylike and always composed, polite, prim and proper. A few months ago, she would never have even _dreamt _of going outdoors without an umbrella to protect her porcelain skin from the harsh rays of the sun. Now, however – well, now she had more important things to worry about than freckles.

"Tarzan!" she called, chancing a glance back over her shoulder at the stampeding rhinos chasing after her.

This was not how she'd imagined her morning going. She'd just popped down to the river to do a spot of washing, a perfectly harmless endeavour. How was she to know that a herd of rather territorial rhinos had taken up residence in that particular part of the river, hm?

Branches cracked beneath her feet as she ran for her life, and she idly wondered how many splinters she'd have to pull out of her soles this time – if she made it away from the rhinos, that is. While Tarzan's hands and feet were calloused from years of living in the jungle, Jane's delicate skin was not used to such harsh conditions. She liked to think that her body was getting used to this more physical lifestyle, but as she trod on a particularly sharp stick she realised that she was still very much unprepared for running barefoot across Africa.

"Ow! Tarzaaaan!" she yelled again, drawing out the second syllable as her foot caught on a raised tree root and she was sent sprawling face down into the dirt.

The ground was shaking with her impeding doom, dozens of rhino feet stamping away behind her. She scrambled to pick herself up, but her hands were shaking and she couldn't quite get a grip on the soft earth. The rhinos were getting closer and closer, and Jane really didn't want to die like this – what would they put on her tombstone? _Jane Porter, trampled to death after doing the washing_?

Just as she was about to give up all hope, the distinctive cry signalling Tarzan's arrival echoed through the trees and she let out a sigh of relief. A strong hand gripped the back of her shirt and suddenly she was being lifted off the ground and into the air. Tarzan swung from vine to vine before landing on a thick tree branch well out of the rhinos reach. He threw Jane into the air as he landed, steadying himself before catching her bridal style in his strong arms.

"Oh," she said, clutching his shoulders. "Thank you."

Her husband gently put her down, surveying her for any injuries. "Jane okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, retreating to the trunk of the tree and sitting down. She crossed her legs and lifted one foot up to examine the sole. Just as she'd suspected, it was red and raw, covered in scratches and a giant blister that had formed and popped in the one run. Annoyed, she blew her hair out of her face and dropped her foot, folding her arms over her chest in a huff.

Tarzan moved towards her, his legs bent out and his weight on his knuckles. "You're hurt."

She considered lying to him for a moment, but one look at his intense stare told her that she wouldn't get away with it. "Oh, alright. I'm a little scratched up. But it's nothing really, it's just -"

"Jane is hurt," he repeated, lifting up her foot. He scowled at the marks there.

She pouted and pulled her foot out of his grasp, tucking it up under her green skirt. She was reminded of their very first meeting, when she'd had no idea of just how completely this man was going to change her life.

"Jane isn't made for running through the jungle." At his blank look she elaborated, "I'm used to wearing _shoes, _and – and walking, at a leisurely pace, more like a stroll, really, on streets and in gardens, not – not running for my life from a herd of wild rhinos."

"You went to the rhino's river," Tarzan said.

He'd completely missed the point of what she'd been trying to say, but Jane was used to this by now and so she obliged him anyway. "Well I didn't _know _it was the rhino's river, did I? I thought I was just going there to do some washing… Oh, the washing!" she cried, throwing her arms up to cover her face. "Oh, I left the basket down there and they've probably trampled all our clothes."

"We get new clothes," her husband said matter-of-factly.

She let her arms fall into her lap and stared at him. His face was full of childlike innocence and hopeful wonder. He took everything in his stride so easily, and Jane was still finding adjusting to this change such a struggle. Would Tarzan have felt like this, she wondered, if he had ended up going back to England with them?

"We can't get new clothes, Tarzan," she said gently. "There's nowhere to buy them from."

"Then we go get old clothes," he replied easily.

She gave him a small smile. How nice it must be to be endlessly optimistic.

"Is it safe to go back to the river?"

"Rhinos are gone, for now," he told her, pointing in the direction the rhinos had hurtled after he'd picked her up. "If we're quick we can leave before they return."

"Alright," she said, using the trunk for leverage and balance to get to her feet. She ignored the stabs of pain shooting up her limbs as she put pressure on her injuries, and forced a smile. "Let's go get our clothes then."

Tarzan looped his arm around her waist, holding her securely against his side. He gripped a vine and swung them off the branch, making the short journey through the tree tops to the river below.

When she was wrapped in his arms, Jane felt that there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be. With Tarzan, she could swing through vines, surf along twisting tree branches, face wild animals and take on the perils of life in the jungle without a second thought. He made her brave, and he made her feel competent – but she wondered how _she _made _him _feel. What if he was sick of teaching her how to know which vines were strong enough to hold her weight and which would break as soon as she grabbed them? What if he was getting tired of carrying her, and of having to save her every time she got herself in trouble?

They landed with practiced grace on the banks of the river, and sure enough there was the basket Jane had used to carry the laundry – trampled and smashed, clothes dragged through the muddy banks and ripped by the stampeding rhinos.

"Oh, no," she said, dropping to her knees to pick up the closest article of clothing, which just so happened to be a pair of her bloomers.

"Can you fix them?" Tarzan asked, peering over her shoulder.

"I suppose I can, if we have enough thread," she answered glumly, draping the unmentionables over her forearm and moving on to the next piece.

Tarzan quickly helped her gather them all up before ducking into the jungle to grab some large ferns. He tied the leaves together to form a makeshift bag, which Jane gratefully dropped all of the dirty clothing into.

"Thank you, Tarzan," she said, wiping her hands on her muddy skirt. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Tarzan doesn't know what he'd do without Jane," he replied sweetly, lifting her chin so she'd look him in the eyes.

She turned her face to the side, embarrassed. "Well, that's very sweet of you to say, but I'm afraid that you could get by without me quite comfortably."

He looked confused by her words, worry creasing his brow. "Jane is upset."

At his words she felt the floodgates open. She twisted her hands in front of herself and, unable to cope with the emotions making her insides churn, she forced herself to voice her fears. "Tarzan, do you ever feel that I'm – a burden?"

"What's a burden?" he asked, dropping his hand from her face to her wrist. He curled his fingers gently around her arm, and she found herself extremely grateful for the contact.

"A burden is, uh, is something that you have to carry -" she started to explain.

"Tarzan doesn't mind carrying Jane," he quickly informed her, smiling broadly. "Tarzan is strong enough."

"Oh I know, I'm not doubting your strength," she hurried to amend, placing her hand on his muscular shoulder. "A burden is more of an _emotional _weight you have to carry."

"I… don't understand."

Jane decided to just get right to the heart of the matter. "I'm not very good at living in the jungle. I can't swing through the trees like you can, and I can't run as fast as you, and I'm afraid that you feel like I'm ruining your fun, because you always have to come and rescue me." She let out a great sigh. "Like I'm some pathetic damsel in distress."

Tarzan made a small, sad guttural noise, the sort of grunt she now knew meant that he was feeling her pain. It was a sound of comfort and consolation. "Tarzan has fun with Jane. And Jane will learn all those things."

She lifted her eyes from her feet to look at him properly. "You really think so?"

He made a noise of agreement, nodding enthusiastically. He stepped forward, so that her feet were in between his, and unfurled his fingers in her hair, his broad palms resting against her jawline.

"Even though I'm clumsy and awkward?" Her voice was small and quiet, her breath taken away by just how close Tarzan was.

"Jane is perfect," he assured her.

Before she could reply, he leant down and captured her mouth in a kiss. She melted into the contact, curling her small hands around his neck and drawing him down so she could deepen the kiss. He had the power to be rough and demanding, but Tarzan always kissed Jane as though she were the most precious thing in the world; It was normally she who initiated anything further.

When they parted Jane could feel that her cheeks were flushed, and Tarzan was grinning at her. He hoisted her off her feet with one arm, scooping up the laundry bag with the other, and jumped into the trees. Just a few seconds later, the rhinos returned.

"Your timing is impeccable," she praised, watching the majestic animals as they splashed back into the water.

Tarzan smiled and kissed her quickly once more. "Let's go home."

Jane tightened her grip on him and allowed herself to be carried back to their tree house. The old Jane Porter might have been scandalised at the thought of clinging to a man's bare chest, but the new and improved Jane was quite happy to give her feet a rest as they swung through the vines. After all, she was going to have to do the washing at some point – and life in the jungle never stayed quiet for long. She thought she might as well enjoy the respite while it lasted. As long as Tarzan was happy to keep carrying her, she decided that she was more than happy to let him.

* * *

**a.n. **i'm on a total tarzan binge. no regrets! might expand this into a series, but for now it's a one-shot. please review and let me know what you think of it!


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